A/N: this came to me late one night and was inspired by another fanfic called Adams Bliss.
I wrote it once, it got erased and now I'm writing it again.
This story creeps me out.
Seven Sins
Kyriaki
The First Sin
"Man created blades to kill and was in turn killed by blades."
He held his arm outstretched and from the rotting moon pale peach appendage blossomed scales of twisting violet and emerald like an expanse of green meadows reaching for the starry northern lights.
From the scales flowered thousands of bleeding wounds, blooming morning glories that spattered into crawling bloodied serpents that slithered like millions of swarming bees and angry black ants.
The swirl of bi-colored snakes cut a swath through the flesh to converge upon reaching grasping finger tips as the congealing mass of creatures writhed into a single form and from that pulsing convergence came a blade of purple green hues, sharp slats of lavender scales furled like a waking blossoms petals.
The blade extended forward in a writhing mass of thousands of intertwined bodies, the petals furling and falling back to bear forth sharp ivory white; like a folding lotus flower.
His albino flesh tapered into keen reptilian iridescent scales and flowed into a tainted pearly blade as the petals winnowed into the swift winds.
From it's pearl belly it beckoned.
Deftera
The Second Sin
"The mad lovers, the waltz of the entwined thorns, those who taint both themselves and everything around them."
His blackened body seemed as if hewn down the center into two symmetrical halves, stitched together in a messy angry line up the middle, the cut oozing puss and ichors through swollen infected stitching.
One half of his body was a cold blue that whispered of ice, the other half a hot red that screamed of fire; his out reaching hands their lips from which the profanities spilled, his own sealed shut.
Triti
The Third Sin
"Man, the thorns of the rose, they spread like fire and spilled across the seas like disease, withering all it touches."
His body convulsed and colors converged, blending into a coagulant mire of decayed carcass red, of hard veins and membranous flesh. From his hands shot out decomposed ivory cracked claws that bit into meat and tore through flesh leaving naught but calcified crawling necrosis in their gleeful wake. The bone spikes seemed as if to smile in their glint, the tight red flesh clinging to long spindly fingers that reached out and grasped like an angry infants clawing clutch.
The thorns atop his fingertips plead for more as they relish their work; the petrified remains, the wax figures and the stone statues forever staring.
Never look back to the pillar of salt.
Tetarti
The Fourth Sin
"The three temptress sisters from whose lips spill only lies, whose silver laced tongues poison the eyes."
The jagged line of swollen stitches opened wide like grimacing jaws as his flesh squirmed with life from within.
With a cry of pain his body split and three smiling creatures crawled bloody from his twitching body like parasites from the guts of their host, ready to meet the dawn and to reach for the heavens.
From its gory womb crawled a sickly green woman, whose jade form and façade of beauty spoke of riches and pleasures, the sultry vixen that lied of the past, the sorrow of the unrequited, of those left behind, the forgotten.
From the bleeding mass came forth a yellow child whose golden spiked tongue weaved whispered gossips in low conspired keys. She held them tightly in embrace, dancing with them mired in the crimson wound from which they crawled, the coagulated corpse squelching beneath each footstep in their blood bath.
She the fool who binds with lies of the present, the blind eyes stitched shut with utmost care, she who knows not her sightless nature.
In her arms lay an angry violet infant whose smile seems upside down and whose screams cut through the night skies, whose disgusting form curls and cries.
From her babbling lips spew madness and sorrows and joys.
The incoherent babe who lied of the future, the terror of the unknown in the darkness.
Pempti
The Fifth Sin
"The regenerator, the consumer, the dried up oceans."
From the corpse of which they sprang flowed lavender waters upon which they feasted and grew strong.
The strange water glistened like rivulets of stars and tasted of ambrosia, a silky wine the sisters craved more and more and more without remorse.
As the purple rivers waned, they fought, they wounded and they bled, each one cries for it's own, through greed and fear and grief.
The three sisters would leap upon each others throats and tear off one another's lips, their lies smothered into naught but angry murmurs, their bond of blood broken as the cadaver decayed, their sustenance dried up and their strength died away.
Paraskevi
The Sixth Sin
"The resilient, the swift, the arrow through the heart, the outstretched hands that multiply and scream for more; the death sentence."
They fought and they bickered, they screamed and they hated and they hurt as the last of their amethyst life dried up.
The triplets screamed and cried, their emaciated forms weak, their bones broken, bloody wounds gouged by callous hands and chipped nails, their eyes ripped out, the swollen sockets a festering infection.
Their screams naught but short peppered gasps as one by one they began to vomit blood and worms flowed from their fervent dried lips.
The blue tailed serpents gagged their lies as they heaved thousands of the creatures, the strange russet worms writhed and bit into their flesh with tiny pointed teeth, angry and so full of sorrow they writhed. In panic the sisters tried so hard to kill them, terrified as each serpent struck split into two leaving long bloody gashes as they crawled back to the barley living and ate them alive.
Their fibrous body twitched and squirmed and cut, they burrowed deep into the festering wounds, crawled from gauged out eyes and snapped and screeched, a million hungry mouths.
Savato
The Seventh Sin
"The black cloak, the cleansing flames, the finality; ashes to ashes."
They screamed in gagging bursts, from their mouths vomited thousands of angry writhing worms; terrified, they huddle together and in their choked lies they cry prayers.
"Deliver us!" They scream; the infant's screams squelched into wines, the child's tongue cut out, unable to bind and the woman's green pastures belched into cracked quagmire.
Their bodies burn, the pain threads through every inch of their seething flesh and black fire boils out from beneath their burning bubbling bones.
From their parched leathery skin spring millions of stinging spiders whose webs weave nightmares and whose footfalls leave small bloody pinprick prints in their wake.
Their spindly legs puncture the skin like nails, stabbing and crawling and stinging as the three twins heave hungry worms and the belching black flames sear burnt black flesh and they scream and scream; their prayers choked, their lies smothered and their pleas drowned beneath a flowing curtain of midnight blaze.
The flames devour them, worms and spiders and sisters and all, cinders into ashes and the ashes blow away into silence.
Bliss.
A/N:… That's it, no more cookies before bed…
